26. Mattias

Therapy was... well, I didn't know what I'd expected. A big brown leather couch and someone asking me if I had a terrible relationship with my mother, or if I wanted to have sex with my father.

Frankly, yes, I had a terrible relationship with my mother, but that was because in every way that mattered, she wasn't my mother. My mother was a fragile woman in her seventies who was slipping away from me, year by year.

My father? Hell, I wouldn't know him if he marched into the inn and I looked him in the eye. Was that trauma? It didn't feel like trauma. It felt like nothing.

But the office wasn't dark and foreboding, and Doctor Hawking didn't seem like a scary person who could reach into my head and see all my secret trauma. She looked a little like Everett's boyfriend Peter, with elfin features, a mischievous smile, and red-brown hair. "Hello, Mattias. I feel as though I should start by apologizing to you. My Uncle Mark always stays at the inn when we have family reunions, because no one wants him at the family house."

Mark Hawking. Ah yes, I knew him well.

He stayed at the inn about a week every fall, and he was the most ridiculously fastidious person I'd ever met. He'd have me change the sheets and towels in his room, sometimes three or four times a day, one memorable time in the middle of the night, because he had spilled water on the sheets, so they were "dirty."

He was apologetic every time, though, promising that he didn't mean to imply anything about the inn, and it was his issue not ours, and he appreciated us putting up with it oh so much.

I collapsed onto the couch with a sudden need to giggle wildly. "He's, uh, he's a trip. But he likes my cooking, and he likes to talk to Grandma."

"Indeed," she agreed. "He often suggests we should get you to cater the gathering instead of doing a potluck because, and I quote, ‘Mattias's kitchen is spotless, unlike yours. Sorry.'"

That... almost made me burst into giggles again. "I feel like I should apologize to you. I mean, no one keeps their home kitchen that clean. I'm a trained chef. Plus we have regular health inspections, so the inn's kitchen has to be spotless."

She smiled at me, and I took a deep breath, so much of my anxiety leaking out.

"Neat trick."

"It works sometimes," she said with a shrug. "I don't usually have a cute story, but Uncle Mark makes things easy sometimes."

"He's a good guy, but I can see why you wouldn't want to change the sheets in the guest room thirty times a week."

She slapped a palm over her face. "Thirty times a week. I thought once a day was ridiculous."

I shrugged back, helpless but still amused, and so much more relaxed than I'd been. "He wasn't paying you for the accommodations."

"Fair enough. Now, what did you want to talk about, Mattias?"

And suddenly, none of it seemed quite as scary as it had when I'd walked into the office. She was a nice person. She knew Mark. And me? I wasn't a nightmare monster or anything. I just didn't know how to deal with my problems, and maybe she did.

That was what she did for a living, after all. I filled people's bellies and changed their sheets thirty times a week if that was what they needed, and she helped people fix their lives.

Connor was still in the waiting room when I was finished. Not that I'd expected otherwise; Connor was exactly that as a person—reliable and stable, calm and caring, always there.

It was part of what kept drawing me in; the way he hadn't given up on Jessie.

Sure, I'd immediately thought him handsome, and been envious of his perfect family. But even when they'd gone, he hadn't. He'd kept showing up, because he was that loyal, that dedicated. As Doctor Hawking had pointed out to me, I was that too, and I needed people closer to my own age who were the same. There was no reason to forge a relationship with my mother, because I was right—she wasn't my mother, Jessamine Hall was my mother. She was the woman I'd give anything in the universe for.

Connor, on the other hand? I hadn't lost his child or broken up his marriage, so as much as I wanted to feel guilty for the things that had gone wrong for him, that was just empathy, making me hurt like he hurt. I hadn't broken up his marriage. He and Trev had been going in different directions, and he and I weren't.

It was okay for me to want him, and it was okay for us to go at our own pace. And, she'd pointed out, having seen me in the waiting room with Everett and Peter, her cousin Peter was close to my age and new to town. He'd make a great friend. He was lots of fun, and not likely to ever leave Cider Landing.

I didn't know and didn't ask how she knew he wasn't likely to leave, but something about the words felt true. Peter belonged to Cider Landing like I did. Like I was starting to think maybe Connor did too.

Connor stood to greet me as I came back into the waiting room, smiling at me hopefully, and I returned the expression. I felt... better. Alive. Energized. Ready for what was next.

No, my problems weren't fixed, but they weren't insurmountable. And I had Connor. And maybe I'd reconnect with Everett, and at the same time, Peter. Friends my own age, what a novel concept.

"How does ice cream sound?" I asked Connor, heading straight for his side and snatching up his hand, like he'd offered it. Like it was mine to take, with or without invitation.

He smiled, and his shoulders dropped, almost looking... relieved? "Ice cream sounds amazing. Did we eat all the peach you made? Do we need to go to the store?"

"The store," I agreed. "Like there was any chance Grandma was going to let peach ice cream stay in the freezer more than one night."

He chuckled and nodded as we headed out. "Good point."